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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22660054">[Fanfiction] Air Conditioning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru'>SkyAsimaru</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>"body switching" "switch places" "sex" "hot day", M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:15:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22660054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A smutty Good Omens fanfiction to do with A&amp;C switching places while the A/C is out (A&amp;C being short for Aziraphale &amp; Crowley, and A/C for Air Conditioning). Fun times.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>[Fanfiction] Air Conditioning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>**Author note: I was staring at the ceiling the other day (which is not a euphemism for anything, simply what I was doing), when all of a sudden I wondered if they ever switched places while they did it or something. Suddenly, I wasn’t staring at the ceiling anymore; I was looking for a pencil and paper.<br/>Aziraphale and Crowley are the intellectual property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. This fanfiction is not to be bought or sold for any value of money, of course. Slash.<br/>Enjoy. **</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a hot day in Soho, muggy and flat, the kind of temperature that had Crowley sniggering when he closed the public pool for the day. “Chemical malfunction” and all that jazz (which is just lifeguard speak for someone - - some amicable child who was only too happy to take soft drink after soft drink Cowley - - amicably dressed up as a helpful employee - - was all too happy to give him - - taking a piss in the pool). Crowley grinned as he passed by the would-be pool goers, towels around their necks and unread novels in hand, gaping in dismay at the big yellow “CLOSED” sign now hanging over the gate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yes. It was going to be a good day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sauntered off to his beloved Bentley, then started the drive over to inner Soho, eager to see his friend Aziraphale and see what he was up to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**********</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was organizing the books. At least, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> have been organizing the books, but as he lay on the couch in the dark - - desperate to escape the hot summer air - - he twitched a book out of place mentally and carefully switched it with another one. Then he put his hand down. That was all he could manage in the dark, stuffy air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had thought it would be cooler in the dark. The A/C would have been on - - occasionally needed to regulate the temperature for proper book storage, but it was broken. Aziraphale would have miracled it back to life, but he wanted to give the repairman he had called a chance to do some good in the world. Now, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>the man would come on time…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front door jingled open and shut. Aziraphale felt rather than saw Crowley “saunter vaguely” into the shop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In here,” Aziraphale called out, and sat up a little straighter. He could always feel Crowley’s presence, particularly when he was near, ever since the switch. It was a nice feeling, a comfortable feeling, like finally finding a familiar face in a room full of strangers, and he rather enjoyed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley slipped his way into the backroom, the smug smile on his face flickering good-naturedly (although Crowley would punch anyone who actually used that word to describe him) into a wince as he said, “Not much better in here, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much,” Aziraphale agreed. “I would have thought you’d be happy about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not one of mine,” Crowley shrugged and sauntered off to the fridge. “Must be Global Warming or one of his lot.” He pulled open the door, a sigh of relief on his lips at the cool air hitting his face, then pulled out a bottle of chilled wine, put there just for that purpose. In his snake form this sort of weather would be paradise, but in his human form it was just uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Care for a drink, Angel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “It’s the middle of the day, my dear boy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never stopped us, before. It’s always night </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Aziraphale could not rail against that logic, he put his book down and stood up to join his friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**********</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few bottles of wine later and they were both giggling. Aziraphale’s coat was loosened and Crowley’s was thrown nonchalantly to the floor. They were comparing past summers and wondering if any of them had been this hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank upstairs for the invention of Air Conditioning,” Aziraphale noted off-the-cuff. The repairman still wasn’t there yet, but he had called, quite apologetically, to confirm that yes he was late but he was still coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>downstairs</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Crowley tipped another bottle into his glass. “All the pollution these things belch out, contributing to the disastrous environment which just makes people want to to use ‘em more - - they’ve got to be one of ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale thought on that. “Well,” he finally conceded. “Perhaps it was a joint effort.” They clinked their glasses together and took another sip of wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of ‘joint efforts’ and partnerships got Crowley to thinking, and suddenly he had a devilish - - awesome, as the Americans would call it - - idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angel?” He couldn’t resist blushing, just a little, as those innocent blue eyes landed on his, not with the idea he had in mind. “Why don’t we try switching again?” The angel’s brow furrowed, struggling to keep up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Aziraphale put down his wine glass and tilted his head. “There’s no need to - -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just think of it,” Crowley interrupted. He slurred a bit as he said it, and decided to be a bit sober for this one. He mentally put some of his wine back in the bottle as he said, “You be me, and I be you. Then you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, only I’m you - - don’t you get it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s face screwed up into a confused frown. “No, I’m not sure I follow…” He too put some of his wine back into the bottle. Where he had been swimmingly tipsy before, he was only mildly muzzy, now, and he said, “Do we really have time for it? The repairman said he would be here </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>minute, and -</span>
  <em>
    <span> - </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>lying</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Crowley sneered, but again, rather good-naturedly. This idea had him tickled, and in all the right places, and suddenly he could not wait to try it out. “Why, I bet </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>minute he’ll have some accident—“ Aziraphale glared and Crowley amended his words — “a flat on the road, that sort of thing, and call to reschedule.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The telephone rang. Aziraphale shot Crowley an annoyed glare as he picked it up. “Hello? A.Z. Fell Bookshop. Yes. Yes. Oh, how unfortunate! Well, I’m sure help will be on the way to you shortly. Oh, they’re just around the corner, you say? Well that </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>lucky. No need to reschedule at all, then? Wonderful! We’ll see you soon. Looking forward to it. Glad it’s all tickety-boo!” And he hung up. “Nice try,” he started, turning around. “But it just so happens a flat repair vehicle was </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>around the corner from him, and he was already getting help as we speak —“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale froze. There, sitting on the couch in front of him, was himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> himself - - his other self was wearing Crowley’s clothes, which looked all wrong on him, dark and forbidding and a bit tight against the rosy, plump cherubim of his skin, and that look in his eyes - - it was not a look Aziraphale ever saw on himself, in any case. It was too…devilish. He suddenly wasn’t sure if he could ever make that look - - so triumphant and coy, like the cat that ate the canary… and then got to be the one to tell its relatives all about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you - - How did you —“ he sputtered, but his mirror-image simply lifted a finger to his lips for silence.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that difficult when you put your mind to it,” Crowley whispered, his borrowed voice sultry as silk on satin. “Try it, Angel. Go on. Think of my body.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale flushed, his body temperature rising along with some other choice places, and he closed his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Crowley purred in Aziraphale’s voice. “That wasssn’t so hard, was it?” Only the hiss gave away his true nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale looked down at his hands - - thinner, sharper nails, black-painted (he knew, for he helped Crowley paint them from time to time). He was thinner, too, the lighter weight always making him feel rather taken-aback as his clothes suddenly felt too loose on him; the suit bagged and sagged in all the wrong places. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er… are you sure you’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> right, love?” He asked Crowley - - the real Crowley - - tentatively. “It’s just, I don’t remember ever looking quite so—“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s mirror image leaned forward with a dastardly grin reaching all the way up to his ears. “This is the you that I see, love.” He reached a hand around his neck and pulled him in close. The hand was pudgy, yes, the weight was still there, but it was the look in his eyes - - hot and heavy - - then those eyes were right in front of his and their lips met. Blatantly Aziraphale noted Crowley knew every inch of him, so of course he had gotten it right, it was just - - well - -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>hungry before, this wanting, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>lustful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sinful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, on the face of an angel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he realized that, for now at least, he was not the angel, but the demon -  - </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> demon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrapped his hands around his own curly hair and pushed the kiss in deeper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yesss. That’s it, Angel,” Crowley hissed in Aziraphale’s voice, making the angel’s ears burn hot and red as his borrowed form's hair. “Do me the way I do you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s heart leapt into his throat as he realized he wanted to feel it all - - the way Crowley’s heart beat when he pounded into his body, the way Crowley’s body shuddered when he came. He threaded his fingers into his own satiny curls and pulled him close - - hard - - then he stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The repair man - - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll lock the door,” Crowley whispered, nodding his head toward it. He miracled a “Back in #so many# Minutes” sign on the door - - the kind with one of those plastic clocks on the front, only this one would magically change time to however much time they needed while they enjoyed themselves. Crowley looked back to Aziraphale - - a perfect copy of himself, draped in pearl-colored clothes that were disheveled and hanging on him, with a lustful, wanting look in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yess,</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought Crowley, heat filling his body at the yellow glow in the eyes that looked back at him - - his angel’s eyes, but in his own demon’s body. They were <em>doing</em> this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was stuffy, the dark heating up on their small space on the couch as Aziraphale’s copy pushed down onto Crowley’s, who didn’t seem to mind taking bottom after all as he was pushed down into the cushions and fondled and teased.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So this is what he sees when we do this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> each one thought of the other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is what I look like when we... </span>
  </em>
  <span>The heat in the room went up by several degrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crowley, Love, please…” whimpered the Crowley-lookalike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing himself look so needy - - so wanting - - Crowley almost came right there. Instead he took Aziraphale’s cock in his hand - - modeled to look like his own - - the stiff, swollen member pulsating with need, and whispered, “Okay, love. I’ll give you what you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And proceeded to debouch his own body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, it was like fucking himself only better, because like this he could hold Aziraphale in his arms - - know it was his angel, inside - - and hear his own lusty cries in his voice as he pounded his way into his sweet, soft, unforgiving flesh, over and over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if he would feel it in the morning - - or if Aziraphale would - - and at that dizzying thought he pumped slower. It was still Aziraphale, after all, just wearing a different skin — and he didn’t want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> the angel - - </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>angel. His love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mine, Angel,” Crowley whispered, licking and sucking and biting at his own familiar throat, then licking the tattoo along his right ear, surprised that Aziraphale had even remembered that tiny, miniscule detail. But of course he would. Aziraphale remembered everything about him. “Mine, always. Forever and ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes - - yes!” Aziraphale moaned his name, his voice husky and sharp in Crowley’s voice, as jet after jet of hot cum coated their stomachs - - </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>cum, but also Aziraphale’s… at the thought of that Crowley felt himself tipping over a half second later, bursting into his own ass with Aziraphale’s cock. He bit back a curse in Aziraphale’s voice, then they both shuddered, and, after a long moment, returned to their natural forms, sated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley, back in his own body and on top of Aziraphale now, lifted his head, and stared into those cool blue cerulean eyes, still dizzy with passion. Those eyes that he loved so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it as good for you, Angel, as it was for me?” he taunted. Aziraphale gave a deep, throaty laugh, then pulled him down for a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always, Love. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**********</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The repairman knocked on the door. He’d been knocking for the last 10 minutes, but no one had answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” He called out again. One more minute and he would have to be on his way. But... he checked the “Will be Back in #so many# Minutes” sign on the door, frowned, then checked his watch again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s funny, he thought. He could have sworn just a minute ago the sign had said - - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the door opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, finally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do </span>
  </em>
  <span>come in, would you? That’s a good man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The repairman nodded, took off his hat and stepped inside. The master of the shop, a gentleman with blue eyes and blonde curly hair, led him inside. He showed him the faulty air conditioning unit in the back, wherein the repairman started to fix it. Luckily it was not a serious break. Just a couple of old, frayed wires that were easy to replace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you’re a twin, are you?” the repairman asked, politely nodding to the other man fast asleep on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yesss. In a sense.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hiss caught his attention, and for a moment the repairman thought the plump gentleman’s eyes had turned a golden color, with black slits that were almost snakelike. He rubbed his own eyes and shook his head, owning it up to a trick of the light - - or too much time spent around freon - - and went back to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’ll do it,” he said a minute later, clapping the unit hood shut as he stood up. “Try not to run it too much, or your electricity bill will be hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for the advice.” The gentleman patted the machine, which gave a tentative, almost fearful, hum. “What is the fee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s under warranty, Sir. No charge!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Belatedly the repairman wasn’t sure if he had actually checked the warranty. On a model this old, wouldn’t it be expired by now? Then, as if hypnotized, he felt the thought slipping away as the gentleman led him back to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Job well done, but it'ss time to move along. I’m ssure you must have other things to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Yes. My regards to your twin brother, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of coursse,” hissed the man as he shut the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The repairman put on his hat, adjusted his tool belt, and walked back to his van. It had been a long day, but he was all too happy to stay out a bit late to help customers. He was a good man, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile Aziraphale, asleep on the couch in his own body, sighed as the cool air brushed against his skin, like a cool kiss in the night. Crowley gazed at him with soft, borrowed eyes, lounging on the couch next to him, and wondered what sort of fun they could have like this when his lover woke up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The End. </span>
</p><p> </p>
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